Late Applicant March-ish 2009

To Gabriel Burian-Mohr it May Concern,

I submit the following paragraph on behalf of my interest and extensive credentials
in the postal and pen pal industry.   Please consider me as a late semester applicant
for the position.

My parents gave me $32.00 worth of postal stamps for my
sixteenth birthday along with a pair of shoes from KMart. Back in 1994 that bounty
could buy you like 4,000 letters, of which I had 0% interest
in sending.  The shoes got returned for the $11.99 in cash, and the horrid envelope with the
worst gift ever in it got buried in a drawer, along with my hopes and dreams of ever having
a car, boyfriend or achieving any level of coolness.  Two years later I went to college
and got a job in the mail room with a bunch of unruly hooligans who got paid
$5 dollars an hour to deliver mail on campus with the same anti-defeatist attitude as the real
postal workers of America: thru rain or shine or sleet or hail or drive-by's... blah blah.
I began decorating bits of trash and sending them to people in the dorms. We had glue sticks,
access to free postage, and that is when a portal in my mind opened and I became
inextricably linked to the postal messaging system, in like a higher consciousness kind of way. 
This obsession lasted for about 7 years, through several long distance relationships, penpals,
and pages upon pages of letters and postcards.  This enlightened period came to a halt in
the early aughts, with the onset of a drug called career that I became addicted to. Dirty little drug,
with promises of riches but no spiritual rewards. Well, fast forward to today, and this recovering
addict is ready for some post-Twitter post-enlightment magic that only the postal system can
offer in this age.

If this paragraph is suffice,

and my name is L        M        .

Thank you for your time.